


Surprises

by dragonspell



Series: Sex Is Nothing to Be Ashamed Of [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alpha Mick Rory, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Leonard Snart, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Leonard Snart, Top Mick Rory, some Non-Con elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That is the last time that Leonard plans a bank robbery anywhere near a medical center.  Or a research lab, or an experimental clinic, or any of the other cute euphemisms that they come up with to try and hide the building’s real purpose.  There always seems to be some doctor crazed with discovery blowing something up somewhere—or worse—and Leonard has had it.  He and Mick were heading for the rear exit of the bank when the world suddenly exploded around them, bricks and glass and drywall shattering and crashing into them as the north wall ceased to exist. Now, the entire local precinct must be imports from some tropical climate, because forget warm, they have their thermostat set on ‘melt.’  A bead of sweat drips down Leonard’s cheek and he grimaces.  “Why is it so hot in here?” he asks.</p><p>(Or, due to a lab experiment gone wrong, Leonard hits his heat early, just as he and Mick are getting booked.  It's uncontrollable.  Also, Leonard shamelessly flirts with Barry.  TW: Some non-con threats and elements, but nothing really happens (and they're all very sorry).)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after "Rituals."

That is the last time that Leonard plans a bank robbery anywhere near a medical center. Or a research lab, or an experimental clinic, or any of the other cute euphemisms that they come up with to try and hide the building’s real purpose. There always seems to be some doctor crazed with discovery blowing something up somewhere—or worse—and Leonard has had it. Really, the explosion at Star Labs should have alerted the entire city to something not being on the up and up and every single damn research lab should have been shut down or at least heavily monitored. Unfortunately, government is rarely that proactive. 

Why bother trying to _stop_ the mad scientists, when you could let them go do what they’re going to do and let the local red leather-wearing vigilante deal with them? That sounds like a good plan.

The hit on the Carver Street branch of the Central City Bank was supposed to be an easy mark, a quick in and out for him and Mick, netting them a cool five million without anyone being the wiser until morning. The alarms had been disabled and Leonard had easily breached the safe using a combination of the cold gun’s sub zero temperatures and some architectural knowledge. He hadn’t thought about the neighboring buildings beyond if they would help or hinder a getaway, and had hurried Mick along after they had their loot safely stored in a few nondescript lock boxes.

That had been his mistake.

He and Mick are heading for the rear exit of the bank when the world suddenly explodes around them, bricks and glass and drywall shattering and crashing into them as the north wall ceases to exist. “What the fu—” Mick shouts before he’s tossed into a pillar, Leonard tumbling after him. Leonard’s hip slams into a desk, his elbow rebounding off the top, and he flips over it, thudding onto the hard floor and rolling a few more feet to rest against the far wall. His ears ringing, he lands on his side, staring blurrily through the dust and debris at what used to be a wall but is now the ruined interior of another building.

The Prout Family Planning and Research Center, he thinks, recalling the maps and blueprints he’d poured over before the heist. It’s quickly followed by a “What the _hell_?” because who in their right mind places potential explosives at a family planning clinic?

There’s a lingering heat in the air that Leonard’s assuming is from either the explosion or a resulting fire, neither or which particularly please him. There’s really no telling just what might be leaking out the lab or about to. He coughs and tries to find Mick but groans as his head protests the movement, pain zipping across his nerves. Forcing himself to ignore it, he shifts bodily, peering through the remains of the bank lobby. He finds Mick lying a few feet away, flat on his back next to a still standing support pillar. “Mick?” There’s no answer, but Mick’s chest rises and falls steadily, and Leonard swallows back his fear. Mick might be unconscious, but he’s still breathing. Leonard stares for a few moments to make sure, counting the seconds between each breath. Still alive. That’s good. Not optimal but…good.

“Snart?” Leonard jerks his eyes up to meet the startled gaze of one Barry Allen, standing stock-still in his would-be fetish suit. _Awesome_ , Leonard thinks, because the night isn’t going badly enough. He needs to add an arrest by a skinny beta in there, too. This was supposed to be an _easy_ job, damn it. 

Leonard can’t stop the groan that escapes as he first tries to push himself upright. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Hands run along Leonard’s sides and Leonard slaps at them irritably. 

“Peachy.” Slowly, he levers himself into a sitting position. Barry looks like he desperately wants to help but Leonard glares at him. “What happened?”

“The building exploded,” Barry answers. Leonard rolls his eyes and Barry shrugs. “Uh, some experiment blew up? Don’t know. There’s no one in the building. I just checked.” He frowns in concern at Leonard. “Listen, you sure that you’re okay? What are you doing here, anyway?”

For that bit of brilliance, Leonard favors him with a withering look. Barry glances around, apparently finally noticing where he is. “Oh.”

“Yeah, about that,” Leonard drawls. “Listen, Scarlet. You caught us. The loot’s all still here, so how about we just leave this at that?” Leonard tries to push himself to his feet, but the world sways unsteadily and he sits back down. Quick as his name, Barry flashes forward to steady him and this time Leonard allows the contact. “I’ll just collect Mick and we’ll be on our way.”

Barry’s frown of concern turns to disapproval. “I can’t do that,” he says firmly.

“Oh, come on,” Leonard wheedles, putting a touch of playful seduction in his tone. He likes how it widens Barry’s eyes and softens his mouth. Being able to play with Barry is really only good thing about being caught. It never leads anywhere and Leonard doesn’t want it to, but he will admit that it is fun. “For me?”

“I…” Barry is actually speechless for once, staring directly at Leonard. Well, that’s interesting.

Leonard can’t resist the urge to reach out and touch Barry’s face, gloves sliding over Barry’s skin. “Please?” he tries. Barry swallows and for half a second, it looks like Leonard’s ploy is going to work.

Distant sirens grow louder as they approach and Barry shakes his head. “I… No!” He pulls away from Leonard and puts some distance between them. “No, you’re going to jail.”

“Prison,” Leonard corrects.

“What?”

“I’ll go to _prison_ , Barry. Jail first, but prison is where I’m going to end up.” That is, unless Leonard can come up with something between then and now.

“Prison then!” Barry tosses up his hands. “Which is where you _should_ be!”

“And how will we get to have moments like these if I’m in prison?” Leonard asks with a wink.

“There aren’t…” Barry stops his denial before he even gets it voiced. He looks to his right and then his left as if either side might have an answer for him. And then he leaves, nothing but a momentary flash of red streaking away. The sirens are ear-piercingly loud now. It won’t be long before he and Mick are found.

Leonard huffs a laugh and rolls himself onto his knees. “Mick,” he tries again. “Mick, time to go.” Mick groans but stays down. Shit. On his third attempt, Leonard actually manages to stand. His knees threaten to buckle but he forces them straight and totters his way over to where Mick is lying before dropping himself back down. Mick’s got a cut above his right eye, and the beginning of bruising along the side of his face, but all of his limbs seem to be in one piece. Of course, that means absolutely nothing, and it doesn’t preclude any internal injuries. Leonard bites his lip. Mick is fine, he tells himself. He has to be fine. “Mick?”

“Lenny?” Mick’s eyes flutter open and Leonard’s heart squeezes in his chest.

“Yeah,” Leonard says, scooting himself over so that he can rest Mick’s head on his legs. He feels better touching Mick, having physical verification that Mick is with him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Mick answers. “What the hell happened?”

Leonard glances over at the ruined wall and into the decimated lab. “Some loony just blew up another lab.”

“Great.” Mick sits up, groaning as his hand flies to his head. He wipes at the blood that’s trickling into his eyebrow and down his cheek and grimaces. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Hands up!” a voice orders from somewhere behind them and Leonard raises his hands in a show of cooperation.

“Yeah, about that,” Leonard says to Mick and then turns his head to address the cop behind him. “We need a doctor.”

* * *

By the time that the police finally get Mick up and handcuffed to a gurney so that he can be examined, Mick has worked himself up into a full-on rant and it’s music to Leonard’s ears because it, more than anything, shows that Mick’s okay.

“I’m going to kill all of you! I’m going to burn this place to the ground!” Mick roars, shaking the gurney from side to side, metal cuffs clanging against the bars. Leonard laughs.

“What’s so funny?” the officer standing to Leonard’s right demands. 

Leonard shakes his head and doesn’t answer. He doubts that the man would understand and it’s between him and Mick anyway.

When the doctor finishes with Mick, he turns his attention to Leonard, as both of them have to be approved for transport. Under normal circumstances, they might be already in an ambulance heading to the hospital but, considering their history, Singh apparently wants them locked up behind bars first and then if they need it, the doctors can come visit them in jail. The doctor, a slight, dark-haired man, an alpha Leonard guesses, judging by the faint scent, shines a flashlight in both of Leonard’s eyes and checks for any lacerations or broken bones. His gloved hands are clinical as they efficiently examine Leonard’s body, but that doesn’t stop Leonard from feeling a flash of heat at their touch. Leonard scowls and pushes the sensation down deep. He definitely does not need that right now.

The scowl has the effect, however, of making the doctor skittish, which is entertaining in itself. When he’s pronounced fit for transport, Leonard snidely thanks the man and, amusingly, the doctor jumps about three feet to collide with one of Central City’s finest.

“Don’t worry, Doc,” the cop says, clapping a hand over the man’s shoulder. “He ain’t going to hurt you where he’s going.” The doctor looks doubtful about that claim and Leonard holds up his hands as far as the handcuffs attached to the gurney rails will let him.

“I’m harmless,” Leonard says with a smirk. “Really.” The doctor glances at him dubiously and Leonard chuckles as an officer wheels him away.

They take him down to the precinct, all flashing lights and cleared traffic because they want Mick and him behind bars as soon as possible. It’s a struggle to get Mick off the gurney—he knocks down two men before they manage to get a new set of cuffs on him—and from there, they have to drag him into the station. Mick is having a ball.

Leonard follows calmly behind, letting himself be led by a firm grip on his arm as an officer marches him inside. The touch rankles but he allows it for the sake of appearing to cooperate. As he’s ushered through, he takes stock of his surroundings automatically, memorizing the layout in case he might need it later. The front desk waves them wearily through, past a group of gawking tourists waiting in hard green chairs, and they’re taken into a hallway. For whatever reason, it’s getting warmer the further in they go. 

The group of cops attempting to manage Mick drag him into the bullpen a few yards ahead. The cop that’s leading Leonard, however, detours, turning right instead of left, to push Leonard into what looks to be a small waiting room. Leonard glances at the officer, confused, and frowns when the man looks blankly back at him. Leonard quirks an eyebrow. In the background, he can still hear Mick’s gleeful ravings, but they’re getting farther away the longer he stays in the room.

Another cop pokes her head in. “What are you doing?” she asks. “The captain wants him locked up.”

The cop attached to Leonard’s arm blinks at Leonard and glances around the room, like he’s not really sure how to answer that question. “Uh, right,” he says and steers Leonard out of the room and down the hall to the bullpen. Leonard wonders just how much of the man is actually rattling around inside his brain. He seems to be on autopilot. 

Also, the entire precinct must be imports from some tropical climate, because forget warm, they have their thermostat set on ‘melt.’ A bead of sweat drips down Leonard’s cheek and he grimaces. “Why is it so hot in here?” he asks.

“Imagine that,” the female cop says as she walks past him. “Captain Cold, complaining about the heat.”

The officer holding Leonard’s arm chuckles and pushes him forward. Leonard rolls his eyes. Fine. If they want to pretend that he’s crazy for not liking the temperature to be nearing 90, then so be it. He’ll take that.

As he steps into the big room and past the first bank of desks, another officer comes up and grips Leonard’s arm. He rolls his shoulders irritably at the unnecessary grab, the fingers tight around his upper arm. He’s cooperating; there’s no need to try and force him anywhere. Especially when the new officer attempts to pull Leonard in the opposite direction of where he should be going, resulting in an entirely unexpected and un-fun game of tug-of-war between the two cops using Leonard as the unwilling rope. “Uh, _hello?_ ” Leonard snaps. “I don’t bend that way.” The second officer drops his arm like he burned her.

“Uh…” she says, her mouth gaping open. Leonard glares at her and marches himself towards where he’s supposed to be going. Apparently, all the cops at this precinct are incompetent. He’s going to have to jail himself and that’s just sad. And the temperature is even hotter in the bullpen than it was out in the hall. The cops must be tired of trying to make people sweat out confessions using guilt and have just resorted to turning the place into a sauna. 

Before Leonard can get too far, yet another officer stops him, this one a larger male who steps in front of him. The guy stares dumbly at Leonard while Leonard crinkles his nose at the amount of alpha pheromones that the guy is putting off. “Do you mind?” Leonard tilts his head towards where he can hear Mick still ranting. Though, now that he thinks about it, Mick’s voice seems to be edging into actual _rage_ —a small but distinct difference from the tone he was using earlier. Leonard frowns thoughtfully. If they’re beating on him, they’re going to pay for it later and he doesn’t care _what_ Mick did to trigger them.

“You…” The guy licks his lips and jackknifes forward. Leonard recoils in disgust and tinge of fear, dragging the officer attached to him a half-step in the other direction. “You smell really, really good.”

Leonard swallows. “Fascinating,” he says, and buries the small tendril of panic that wants to unfold inside him, recognizing an alpha on the precipice of a rut—the first one that Leonard’s come across since he went off the suppressants. Alphas are supposed to take time off during their yearly ruts and why the hell the man is still working, Leonard doesn’t know. There are _laws_ , damn it, and if he can’t trust the cops to at least pretend to follow the rules, who can he?

Leonard puts himself more firmly against the guy that is attached to his arm, slinking behind him a little. The man is a dumb shit and possibly permanently out to lunch, but at least he isn’t looking at Leonard like he’s thinking about forcing Leonard down right in the middle of the floor.

Except that he is. Leonard yanks his arm away from the cop that he’d been counting on to keep the other in check as he recognizes the same damn look on the man’s face. He steps backward, holding his cuffed hands in front of him in a vain attempt to keep the two at bay, and ends up running into a third cop—another alpha. She drops her stack of papers and leans in, blatantly smelling him. The panic that Leonard had previously buried flares back into life, seizing his heart. “What the hell is going on here?” he demands.

“What are you talking about?” a nearby detective asks. He glances at the three surrounding alphas currently drooling over Leonard—again, there are _laws_ and Leonard’s never been a big proponent of the judicial system, but he’s currently considering getting a goddamned _lawyer_. “Aren’t you supposed to be transporting him, Rogers?” the detective demands.

Rogers, the first cop, stares at Leonard a little longer. “Yes, sir,” he mumbles. He tries to reach for Leonard again, eyes still glazed over, alpha pheromones everywhere, and Leonard twirls away from his grasping hands.

“Snart,” the detective says warningly, but Leonard is too busy trying to avoid another set of greedy hands to care.

“I’ll take myself,” he says, in an attempt to compromise. “I’ve got it. Know right where it is.”

“The hell you will. Sanderson, grab him.” Sanderson, the large alpha that stepped in front of him stretches out his arms.

“ _Don’t_ you dare, Sanderson,” Leonard snarls, forestalling him. “Don’t you _dare_ touch me.” Sanderson wavers, staring at Leonard hungrily. Leonard’s stomach rolls. There’s three of them and he’s handcuffed. He’s an easy mark.

The detective pulls out his gun. “Leonard Snart,” he shouts, “you are ordered to stand down and let yourself be escorted to the holding cells.” In the background, Mick’s shouts get louder and fuller, more rageful alpha than Mick. Leonard’s breath quickens for a minute before he forces it steady again. What the hell is in the _air_?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What is going on?” Joe West steps into view, his hands up in a placating gesture. His fellow detective keeps his eyes and gun on Leonard.

“Snart is refusing to be escorted.”

Leonard turns to West, hoping that he’s still sane. “It’s against the law for an omega to be handled by an alpha in rut unless consented to.”

“Rut?” West asks, eyebrows rising. 

“Omega?” the other detective scoffs. “There aren’t any omegas trying to touch you, Snart.”

“ _Me_ ,” Leonard growls. “I’m an omega, you obtuse _rock_.”

“What the hell?” West wonders softly to himself, his worldview apparently skewing to the side, while the other detective drops his weapon a few degrees, brow furled and mouth open.

The three alphas are advancing on Leonard, a steady but slow inching toward him, and Leonard moves closer to West. “Escort me,” he demands. He hopes that it comes across as more authoritative than desperate because Leonard’s definitely feeling more of the latter than the former. “I don’t know what kind of circus that you’re running here keeping these three on duty, but I’m not letting a lust-stupid alpha touch me.”

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME!” Mick bellows. A lamp crashes to the ground, the light bulb shattering and sparking before it dies.

Leonard turns and sees four more officers staring at him like he’s dinner and they’re all invited. His hands start to tremble and he whips back around to grip West’s suit jacket. “ _Now_.” 

“What is happening?” a familiar voice squeaks. Barry Allen appears at West’s shoulder. “Rory is, like, _trashing_ the place and—w-w-why is everyone standing around?”

Leonard ignores him. “I want to be in a cell, Detective.” He’s of two minds about that, but any place would probably be better than being out in the open, surrounded by hungry, rut-addled alphas. Leonard doesn’t know what’s going on but he wants to be _gone_. And why was it so goddamned _hot_ in here?

“Oh,” Barry says, his voice oddly distant. “Oh…” He lunges for Leonard, putting some of his super speed to good use, and Leonard finds himself caught in Barry’s arms, Barry pressing up against him like he has any right to be there. “Oh, wow…” Barry mutters and buries his nose against Leonard’s neck, breathing in deep.

 _Fuck!_ Leonard scrambles, shoving at Barry, trying to get him off, but Barry holds on, unwilling to let go. “Get _off_ of me!” Leonard shouts. Whatever this thing is, it’s apparently affecting betas now. Leonard needs to _go_. He stumbles to the right and Barry follows him, pinning him against a desk. Barry’s hips rock against Leonard’s, rubbing his hard cock on Leonard’s thigh, and Leonard is unable to stop himself from hyperventilating. No. No, he doesn’t want this. Except that Barry feels so good against him… “No!”

“Barry, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” West demands. He tries to get himself in between Barry and Leonard, forcing his arms into Barry’s circling grip. The desk’s contents tumble to the ground as they struggle, adding to the crashing cacophony of Mick a few yards away. Leonard manages to squirm himself free, and darts a few feet away. The distance will mean nothing to Barry but Leonard’s all too well aware that no amount of distance would prove to be an obstacle for The Flash.

Over on the other side of the room, cops are jumping on top of Mick, trying to take him down and he’s shaking them off like a bull, throwing them into walls and desks and each other. Leonard can make out some of the threats that Mick is screaming to the world, and, occasionally, his name. Each step that Mick is taking is bringing him a little closer to Leonard and Leonard knows, just knows, that Mick is trying to reach him. Trying to protect him. Leonard trembles and he clenches his hands into fists in a vain effort to control it. He’s never felt this vulnerable before. It scares him. He can fight off one alpha, he knows, but six? And Barry? And whoever the hell else joins before this is through? He wants Mick. He needs Mick.

Is this a heat? Is he in heat? It’s never gone this way before, though. Somebody would have _said_ something if heats were ever like this. It’s like everyone in the room has lost their goddamned minds and it’s so hot Leonard can barely breathe. He’s not supposed to be in heat. It’s only been a month since the last one and—

The clinic, Leonard thinks. The goddamned clinic. A _family planning_ clinic that had probably been whipping up some kind of illegal, unethical, supersized and unregulated heat therapy drug and now Leonard’s screwed—in both senses of the word.

Barry wrestles himself away from West and whirls towards Leonard, his intent clear on his strained face. “ _No!_ ” Leonard shouts, using the only weapon he’s currently got. His hands ache for his gun and he brings them up in front of him in a useless defense again. “You stay where you are! Don’t you dare touch me!”

For whatever reason—shock, Barry’s natural good heartedness, whatever—it actually works and Leonard nearly sobs in relief. Barry freezes, his face shifting back into some sense of normalcy before twisting into guilt. “Oh!” he says. “Oh God!” He checks himself all over like maybe he’s been operating with someone else’s hands. “I am _so sorry_!” Leonard doesn’t want to hear how sorry Barry is right now, he just wants to _leave_. “I don’t know why I would—why I did—oh God!” He moves to touch Leonard and Leonard scrambles backward. “Oh my God!” Barry says again. “Sorry! Sorry!” He holds up his hands and takes a few steps back.

Leonard turns on West again. “I want a heat cell,” he orders.

“ _What?_ ”

“I want a heat cell and my mate.” West waves his hands, trying to convey the impossibility of that and Leonard snarls. “Now or super villain or not, I will _sue_ your ass for a violation of the Omega Protection Act.”

“ _Okay!_ ” West says. “Okay, we’ll get you a heat cell—”

“Stay the _fuck_ back,” Leonard shouts. It halts the alphas that had been attempting to slide closer to him. He notices that a few others have joined their ranks. Mick’s rage continues unabated.

“—But we have no idea where your mate is, Snart!”

“Yes, you fucking do!” Leonard’s internal thermostat is going wild and, now that he knows that it is him and not the room around him, he feels like it is burning him alive. His knees buckle and though he catches himself on the desk, he’s still going down. He sprawls on the floor, panting as he burns. His clothes feel like thorns and all around him is the sweet smell of available alphas. Leonard bangs his fist against the metal side, needing the pain to hold on to sanity. 

West looks around the room incredulously. “No, we—”

“Oh _God_ ,” Barry says again and Leonard wishes that he would quit saying it. “Yes, we do.”

“Mick!” Leonard shouts. “Mick, I need you!”

Mick roars as furniture and bodies slam into walls.

“Firing taser!” an officer shouts and Mick roars again. 

Leonard kicks at the desk and turns onto his knees. The alphas have gotten closer, unable to help themselves. “Mick!” He crawls forward, heading towards the sound. Hands try to pull him onto his feet and Leonard shoves them away before he realizes that they’re not trying to restrain but help him. He could use them to get to Mick faster. He grabs onto the offered arms and drags himself to his feet.

“Easy!” West tells him. “Jesus, Snart!” His hands wrap around Leonard’s waist and haul him towards the back, partially towards Mick, and it’s good enough for Leonard. “Phil! Melanie! You haven’t lost your minds, too, have you? Help me! Barry, you stay back! All of you, just _stay back!_ ” Leonard uses his hands to crawl over the desks, using them as supports, until another set of arms wraps around him and lifts him up. 

“God, he’s heavy.”

“And tall,” a woman grunts. 

“Lenny!” Mick growls. Desks screech across the floor as he rushes towards Leonard and Leonard holds out his arms for him. Mick is tackled before he can reach Leonard, three men taking him to the ground.

“No!” Leonard yells as he’s yanked away from Mick. “No!” He fights against the various holds, needing to be free, needing to get to Mick. He kicks, knocking a monitor off of a desk.

“Hold him!”

“I’m _trying_!”

“Jesus Christ!”

Leonard catches himself on the door jamb as they try to pull him through, his fingers whitening as he puts his strength into lunging forward. They peel his fingers off of the wood panel and he tumbles back into a hallway, landing on uneven ground. He scrambles to his feet, but arms wrap around him again and drag him backward. “Mick!”

“We’re trying to _help_ you.”

“Think he’s beyond that, Joe.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Fuck—”

They round a corner and remove the handcuffs from Leonard's wrists before shoving him into a room. He catches Joe West’s face, reddened with exertion, and Captain Singh staring at him. “What is going on?” Singh demands. Leonard lunges forward and Singh startles, dancing away. 

The door closes, leaving Leonard alone in the room and he sobs. Everything hurts. It burns. He needs Mick. He doesn’t want to die. 

He’s going to die. “Mick!”

“Lenny! Fucking let—” Mick snarls, his voice muffled by the wall, “let go of me! I’m going to rip out your throat! What have you done with Len?”

“Get him in!”

“Are you sure—”

“There’s already someone in that room!”

“Get him in the goddamned room!”

The door jerks open and Mick tumbles in, slamming into the floor. He snarls and spins, getting to his feet as shouts echo and the door slams again. “I’ll kill you, you hear! You fucking touched him and I’m going to burn everything—”

“Mick,” Leonard says. “Oh, fuck, Mick…”

“Lenny!” Mick drops to his knees and grabs a hold of Leonard, pulling him in to a crushing embrace. “What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t know,” Leonard half-gasps, half-sobs. “I don’t fucking know. I’m in heat, Mick. God, I’m in heat and it _hurts_.”

“It hurts?” Mick yanks at Leonard’s coat, dragging it off of him and Leonard helps him, shaking his arms free. He drags his shirt over his head and tosses that away too. Mick’s hands settle on Leonard’s bare skin and Leonard sobs in relief. 

“Yes,” he says. “Oh, fuck yes.” He surges upward and presses his lips against Mick’s, tongue thrusting into his mouth. His arms wrap around Mick’s neck and he forces him backward, taking them both to the ground. Leonard’s legs slide to either side of Mick as he straddles him, hard cock rubbing against Mick’s stomach. Mick growls, hands digging into Leonard’s sides. “I need you,” Leonard gasps. 

With a heave, Mick rolls them, putting Leonard’s back against the floor, then he rears up. Leonard follows him, desperate for more, and Mick yanks at Leonard’s belt. “Get these off,” he growls, pulling at the fly of Leonard’s jeans as the belt smacks against the floor. Leonard shoves his hands underneath Mick’s and pops the top button. Mick hums and buries his hands in Leonard’s pants, forcing them open as he delves in deep. Leonard gasps and bucks his hips, the feel of Mick skin against his nearly driving him out of his mind. He shoves at his jeans, pushing them down his hips to his thighs and then to his knees. Everything is hot—too hot. The world is on fire.

Mick rumbles and glances around the room, then tugs Leonard to his knees and lugs him over a few feet. Leonard feels softness on his skin and then Mick is forcing him backward onto a flat surface, smooth sheets bunching underneath him. Mick lands on top of him, driving him into the mattress, and Leonard kicks off his jeans and scrambles upward, shifting to get himself more on the bed and to get his legs around Mick’s waist. “Mick,” he gasps, his voice edging into a whine. “Mick, please—”

“Fucking—” Mick cuts himself off with a snarl as he wrestles with his own jeans. The button pops off, thudding onto Leonard’s stomach, and Mick forces the zipper down. His freed cock slides over Leonard’s skin and Leonard pants as he reaches for it. He grabs Mick’s cock around the base and pushes it down, trying to shove it in him. “ _Christ_ , Len,” Mick growls. There’s a pop of a bottle and then a handful of slick coats Mick’s cock and Leonard’s fingers before Mick is thrusting into Leonard with a grunt.

Leonard shouts and arches his back, surprised, desperate, wanton. Mick fucks into him, his rhythm hard and fast and nothing like how Mick normally starts and Leonard’s brain gets caught up in a loop of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘more’. “Harder, Mick,” he begs, his heel digging into Mick’s back. Mick slams forward, each new thrust a hard slap of skin against skin, and Leonard’s eyes roll back into his head. “Mmm! Please! Fuck, yeah, Mick…” He shamelessly grabs onto his chest with both hands, fingers tugging at his nipples, and stars explode behind his eyelids as his orgasm washes over him, tightening his muscles and seizing his limbs. Leonard arches upward with a bitten-off scream and holds, back bent, as his cock spills onto his chest. Mick keeps fucking him, hard, fast, his cock getting bigger and bigger with each thrust.

Leonard shudders as he comes down, his body collapsing from the strain to land in a boneless heap against the bed. Mick is still between his legs, keeping his spread, his cock rocking inside of Leonard, the knot already set. Mick’s face is set in a rictus of need, eyes squeezed shut. His hands clench tight enough to bruise—until finally he shouts, slamming deep inside one last time. 

Smiling, Leonard sighs as Mick’s cock starts to empty inside of him, come momentarily sating his heat. He strokes Mick’s head in approval, fingers sliding down his neck to his shoulders and back again. Mick’s hips twitch, little pulses as he shakes with his orgasm. Leonard purrs, soft, soothing assurances pouring out of his mouth.

Entire minutes tick by before Mick finally collapses on top of him, exhaustion deadening his limbs and making him tremble. Leonard wraps his arms around Mick and closes his eyes, content. In no time at all, he’s drifting off.

* * *

He’s woken up by the feel of Mick’s knot once again expanding inside of him, Mick growling in his ear as he holds him, and the now familiar fire racing through his veins. Leonard gasps and claws at the sheet, grabbing a fistful and pulling. It comes with him, not giving him the satisfaction of resistance, and he shifts his grip to Mick’s solid shoulders, holding on as Mick fucks into him. Mick is hard and warm beneath his fingers, heavy body pressing Leonard into the bed. Leonard feels safe, taken care of, _loved_.

He sobs as he comes, his body weary but uncaring of that fact. He quickly falls asleep again, lulled by the steady rocking of Mick’s thrusts.

He loses count of how many times he wakes after that. Whether it’s him or Mick, they grip each other and strain and pant, fighting back the fire that threatens to consume them.

* * *

Leonard groans as sleep slips away from him, dumping him into consciousness. A headache pounds above his left eye and he presses against it, willing it to go away. His mouth tastes like ash and his skin feels sticky with sweat. He glances down at himself and groans again, recognizing the dried come on his chest. Fantastic. He scrapes at it, flaking it off. Behind him, Mick continues snoring, his dick still pressing up against Leonard’s ass and his arms wrapped around Leonard, half protectively and half in a subconscious attempt to make sure that he doesn’t go anywhere. Leonard shifts and feels his skin peel away from Mick’s and then stick again.

The room that he’s in is nothing much, furnished apparently only with the bed that he and Mick are sharing, a toilet, and a shelf bolted to the wall. He glowers at the spilled bottle of lube, the cap open and the contents slowly dripping onto the concrete floor. At least he’s not going to have to clean that up. In the corner is the combination sink and toilet, a familiar prison sight. Leonard wants a shower, but he knows that a few quick splashes from the sink is going to be the best that he’s likely to get right now. 

He slowly shifts, attempting to slide away from Mick’s hold. Mick grunts but lets him go, hands sliding over Leonard’s overheated skin. Leonard sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, tipping himself over and letting gravity put him on his feet. His legs tremble, contemplating rebellion, and then steady themselves and he totters his way over to the sink. He avoids the piles of discarded clothes, skirting them or stepping over. His body protests the movement, muscles twinging, head pounding, but at least away from Mick, it’s cooler. Mick is like a furnace.

Water pours from the faucet and down the drain. Leonard catches some in his hands and splashes his face, then he cups his hands again and repeats for his chest and stomach, rinsing away as much of the mess as he can. Now that he’s standing, he can feel Mick’s come slowly leaking down his thigh and he grimaces and moves to the toilet.

The previous night is only a few flashes and a sense of desperate urgency. He remembers pain and uncertainty, fear and desperation. There’s also pleasure and elation. For some reason, he seems to recall holding onto a doorway, and then the bullpen, surrounded by alphas that were all staring. He remembers Barry. Fuck.

Leonard wonders what that’s going to do for them, if the kid’s going to be so traumatized that he won’t be able to look Leonard in the face anymore or if Leonard’s going to be thinking of that moment every time he sees him now. Either is a daunting prospect. Leonard’s not going to hold it against the kid if he does. He knows that whatever shitshow that was last night, Barry wasn’t responsible for it. Scarlet had been as much of a victim of out of control hormones as Leonard had been.

Someone knocks at the door and Leonard snorts at the pretend social nicety. He’s aware that the door only opens from one side and that whoever can come in whenever they want. He pads over to the bed and flips the thin sheet that he and Mick never used up so that he can slide underneath it. Sitting on a bed with only a sheet for a cover is hardly dignified but it’s the best that Leonard’s got on such short notice without trying to sort out the clothes scattered on the floor and he needs some kind of armor to face whoever is on the other side of the door. Mick grunts as Leonard climbs back into bed with him, acknowledging the movement without bothering to truly wake up.

Mick’s ass is still on display, so Leonard leans down and grabs a shirt—Mick’s by the color—and drapes it over his hips. Good enough. Mick’s practically a nudist anyway.

There’s another knock. Leonard raises his eyebrows. Normally, he knows the cops would have just barged in, heat room be damned. “Yes?” he says.

“Um, it’s, uh, it’s me.” Barry. Of course. “Listen, no one knows I’m here, but can I come in? I-I-I mean, is it over? Are you, uh, done?”

Leonard smiles despite himself. No, he’s not going to hold a grudge against the kid. “Entering a cell with two known super villains. That’s probably a little dangerous.”

“Yeah.” Barry pauses. “So, can I come in?”

“Just don’t expect me to get up and let you in,” Leonard replies. “I’m pretty sure that the door doesn’t open from this side.”

“Oh. Right.” The door slowly swings open to show Barry. Leonard feels a little bad for the amount of guilt that the kid is displaying. It’s written all over his face and his shoulders, down to his toes.

“Don’t shut the door unless you want to be stuck in here,” Leonard reminds him. When Barry looks back at the hallway, Leonard flutters the thin sheet that’s just barely covering his modesty. “Let’s not pretend that I’m in any shape to outrun you. Besides, I’m naked under here.” Barry blushes, his face turning an attractive shade of red, and Leonard smirks. “You’re turning Scarlet, Scarlet.”

“Oh, God,” Barry moans, his hand rising to cover his face. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry and you’re naked—”

“Did you want to see?” Leonard asks, flirting with the edge of the sheet, like he might be thinking of discarding it to let Barry get an eyeful. He chuckles when Barry squeaks, scandalized. This is fun, he thinks.

“Like, Rory is _right there_ ,” Barry whispers, waving his hand wildly at Mick.

Leonard looks over at Mick and runs a proprietary hand down Mick’s side to slide under the flimsy covering of the shirt. “Yeah. He’s naked, too,” he says. Mick grunts and shifts, pushing himself deeper into the bed’s lone pillow. The shirt slips enticingly lower.

“Oh, God,” Barry says again, his hands clenching into fists out of a lack of anything else worthwhile to do. “You-You-You need some clothes on. I can’t talk to you unless you have your clothes on.” He drops his eyes, resolutely refusing to play the game anymore.

Leonard laughs. “Sure. Turn around, Barry.” Barry lifts his head to stare at him again and Leonard gives him a small smile. He was only kidding about parading around naked in front of the kid. “I’m naked, remember?” Barry spins, putting his back to Leonard and Leonard smirks as he slides off of the bed and starts to gather his clothes. “No peeking.”

“I-I-I’m not. Not going to. Uh, peek. I don’t—Just put on some clothes!”

Leonard’s pants are about the middle of the room, his underwear next to them. His shirt, however, had somehow been kicked partially under the bed. He grabs them up. “You don’t?” he asks, unable to resist poking again. “Don’t use that super speed of yours to get a good look sometimes? I mean, no one would even need to know, would they? You could be in and out before they even realized that the air had moved.”

Barry stays where he is. “If that’s the case,” he says petulantly to the wall, “how do you know I haven’t already looked?”

Well, that’s a good question. And it would certainly make life interesting if it were the case, but Leonard knows that it’s not. “Because that’s not what boy scouts do,” Leonard tells him and pulls on his jeans. He slips his shirt on, then picks up Mick’s discarded pants and tosses them to him. They land across his back and Mick doesn’t bother to move them. “There. Dressed again. Mostly.” Leonard has no idea where his shoes are. It’s not like there are many places for them to be but he suspects that they slid farther than his shirt.

Barry turns cautiously around, like he’s afraid that Leonard might be lying and sighs in relief when he finds out that isn’t the case. Leonard rolls his eyes. “I charge for the show, Scarlet.”

“I wanted to apologize,” Barry says, powering past the comment. “That wasn’t me yesterday.”

Leonard waves him off. “None of us were ourselves yesterday.” He looks down at Mick, eying the taser burn that he can see on Mick’s back. “So what happened?”

Barry swallows and glances down at his shoes. “They—we suspect that one of the doctors at the center had been experimenting with some unregulated heat therapies, including some unstable compounds. A Doctor Browning. He, uh, he was killed in the blast.”

Killed or turned into some kind of genetic freak that is going to come back and bite them all in the ass later. Leonard crosses his arms. “And?”

“And?” Barry’s brow furls in confusion.

Leonard gestures impatiently around the cell, indicating it and the whole fucked-up situation. “Anything else I need to know about that ‘unregulated heat therapy’?”

“Oh.” Barry shuffles his feet and bops his head. “It looks to have dissipated at the lab and the few work-ups that we’ve done haven’t shown any lasting effects—Caitlyn and Cisco checked. I mean, we’ll have to do some bloodwork to be sure, but, uh, I don’t think so?”

Tension that Leonard didn’t know that he was holding eases in his shoulders. He nods. “Okay.” He hadn’t wanted to see what life would be like living in the grips of that particular nightmare.

“So, um, do you need anything?”

“Do I need anything?” Leonard raises an eyebrow.

“Like, um, a pillow, or, you know, more comfortable sheets or, I don’t know—”

Leonard glowers. “Don’t do that.”

Barry freezes, eyes wide. “Don’t do what?”

“You’ve punched me in the face before, Scarlet. I think we’re past you treating me like I’m fragile.” Put on a pedestal or disparaged, it all comes down to omegas being considered _weak_. Leonard isn’t weak and he will go toe to toe with anyone that thinks that he is.

“Right. Sorry.”

“Are you sorry for punching me in the face or for treating me like glass?”

“Uh…both? I guess?” Leonard crosses his arms and Barry waves his hands frantically. “But-but not because I think you’re weak or anything! Uh, no, because it’s bad to punch people in the face. You know, in general.”

“In general?”

“Yeah.” Barry pauses awkwardly, the transitions the conversation even more awkwardly. “You’re an omega,” he says. “You’re an _omega_. How did I not know that you were an omega?”

“Must have forgot to put up that billboard,” Leonard answers drily. “Or maybe you missed it.”

“I mean, I’m usually pretty good at guessing—”

“Using stereotypes,” Leonard counters.

“No!” Barry denies. “Okay, sometimes, but not always!”

And Leonard decides to toss a bomb Barry’s way. “You know, you met me once when I was in heat.” Barry’s mouth drops open and Leonard decides to go for broke, just to see how far he could push it. “I came to visit you, do you remember?”

“You…” Barry’s hands drop to his side, lifeless as he thinks, then spring up again. “When you broke into my house!” he snaps. Leonard nods and Barry’s scowl morphs into shock again. “You were in heat? And you came to _me_?”

“Not for that,” Leonard says, the conversation officially reaching the point that he needs to let Barry down easy again—all the better to yank him back up. “You didn’t feel anything?”

“I…” Barry looks down again.

“I did,” Leonard admits. “It’s why I had to leave.” It would have been so easy to stay that night.

“Oh my _God_. When I had you against the mantle! You were…”

“You were willing to punch me then,” Leonard says. “For a good reason. Now isn’t any different. Nothing changes.”

Slowly, Barry nods. He’s still putting the puzzle pieces together, but Leonard’s sure he’ll come up with the whole picture sooner or later. “Right. Okay.” Barry half-turns and scrubs a hand through his hair. “You… Wow. Uh, yeah. Alright.”

Leonard waves him towards the door. “You’d better go before they start missing you. And sooner or later, someone more official is going to stop by to check on Mick and me.”

“Yeah. Um, okay. I just…” Barry looks at him again, all big Bambi eyes and soulful regret. “I wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, Scarlet,” Leonard says off-handedly. He heads back to the bed where Mick hasn’t bothered to stir despite most likely being awake and listening. “Time to go.”

“Right. Sorry.” Barry backs out the door and closes it behind him.

Leonard laughs to himself as he climbs back into bed with Mick. He wasn’t lying about Singh or whoever probably coming to get him soon and he might as well make the most of what time he has.

Mick shifts around him, stretching like a big cat and then sliding his arms over and under Leonard to pull him in close. “You’re going to give that kid a heart attack,” Mick rumbles. He nuzzles against Leonard’s throat and sighs as he breathes in Leonard’s scent.

“Jealous?” Leonard asks. Mick snorts, dismissing the very idea and Leonard chuckles. 

“You said that you were mine,” Mick says softly. “You keep your word.”

“Yeah.” Leonard tilts Mick’s head up for a kiss. He swipes his tongue over Mick’s lips, then pushes between them. Mick opens for him, because that’s what Mick does, who he is

They’re still kissing when Singh and two others come to retrieve them. Leonard freezes, yesterday coming back in bits and pieces, but Mick holds him tight, lets him know that he is safe. One of the cops gasps in surprise and immediately backs out of the room. Singh mutters something about giving them a little bit more time, just to err on the side of caution.

Alone again, if only momentarily, Leonard grins down at Mick. “Ready?”

“No,” Mick says and pulls him in for another hard, fast kiss. It bolsters Leonard like armor. Warm, he thinks. Safe. “Now I am.”

"Okay." Together, they wait for Singh to come back.


End file.
